


Dear in the Headlights

by Robot_Qwerty



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: OOC, The Silmarillion AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-11
Updated: 2019-11-11
Packaged: 2020-08-18 21:07:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20198191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Robot_Qwerty/pseuds/Robot_Qwerty
Summary: Maya had survived the war. She had survived the purges, the snatchers, the hunger. She had fought in the Battle of Hogwarts and survived. Then, Maya became good friends with none other than Harry Potter. They both became Unspeakables, working on understanding the Veil of Death.A freak accident occurs one day and Maya Stricton falls through the Veil of Death, in the bowels of the Ministry of Magic, pushing her best friend out of the way.





	1. Chapter 1

The morning was crisp and damp as Maya locked her apartment up behind her with a distinct _snick_ that was muffled in the foggy air. Shivering in spite of being wrapped up in a jacket and scarf, the young woman had to remind herself that she had come back to London after earning her Masteries for a reason, and that chilly weather was most definitely not a good enough reason to run back to Greece. As the witch headed to work the non-magical way, she couldn't supress a small smile at the knowledge that a vacation was almost there. She and her best friend, Harry Potter, along with his family were going to be going camping over the weekend.

Maya and Harry had discovered hither-to-unknown abilities in academia during their make-up eighth year that had opened eyes to other's existence. At first it had been awkward, what with Harry being unsure if Maya was only trying to know him due to his fame, and Maya not wanting to try and crack into the Golden Trio's hard shell. However, that had been rapidly overcome when Maya had rolled her eyes at a rather jealous quip Ronald Weasley made, and Harry's casual inclusion of her when studying with Hermione. It was this and an added sense of comradery they had gained when old friends had not understood their mutual obsession with ancient magics. That particular interest had sparked ridiculous rumors that Harry was turning dark and Maya was going to become his Right-Hand. The snort of laughter that had made Maya choke on her morning glass of orange juice at that particular speculation showing up in the paper, had made the Saviour laugh so hard that he fell off of his chair, prompting Headmistress McGonagall to roll her eyes in exasperation. Harry's friends had been adamant that he stop his "dangerous interest", and Maya's had been warning her to stay away from such a dangerous individual whom could ruin her reputation. In retaliation for such narrow-mindedness, especially after what the war had done to all of them, the two had started to spend even more time together. By the time they graduated, rumors were circulating that Maya was replacing Ginevra Weasley as the Saviour's love interest, and that Harry was some sort of evil mastermind. The was of course, ridiculous; Maya wasn't attracted to boys, she and Ginny were pretty good friends by the end of the year, and the only reason Harry and the red-head were waiting to get married was because of Harry's apprenticeship. Getting accepted by the same crotchety old man in Athens, Andino Carasto, to study under for their Masteries, had solidified Harry and her bond into that sort of ridiculous friendship where they could snap an snipe one minute and then be laughing over an inside joke the next.

The intensive, accelerated apprenticeship had made them both proud owners of multiple masteries. Masteries in Runes and Spell Crafting for Maya, and masteries in Arithmancy and Rituals for Harry, within four years as compared to the normal eight. Once they had returned to celebrate (and finally marry Ginny in Harry's case), everyone had expected Harry to simply become a Lord and take up his role in the Wizengamot, conveniently forgetting their rumormongering and accusations. The only people whom had steadfastly supported Harry's decision to relinquish the title to an orphan (after blood adopting them and he and Ginny taking custody) and instead apply with the DOM had been Maya and his wife. The two women had defended him against the ridiculous public, papers, and old friends. In turn the married couple had supported Maya by letting her stay with them until she could get her own place and stand on her own two feet.

Maya had lost her family and quite a few friends when Voldemort had taken power, and although the insurance money from her parents death's was more than enough to get started, she had a very hard time dealing with the aftermath. Staying together in a unit had given her the ability to continue growing and become independent. Her closeness with Harry and Ginny, was what lead to her becoming 'Aunty Maya'. Her paranoia and PTSD was what lead to her carrying the majority of her most precious possessions and books with her in an expandable pouch at all times. 

Ginny had been the one to find the perfect place for Maya when she had finally been ready to move out. The apartment was owned by a magical couple, so she didn't have to worry about converting to muggle money, and she didn't have to deal with trying so hard to hide her magic due to the wards that surrounded the building. The distance from MOD was perfect for walking, and she had a fireplace for magical transport to visit the Potter family whenever she wanted. She would admit that she was lonely without her friends, and trying to find a person to date who wasn't trying to use her to get to The-Man-Who-Conquered was harder than it sounded. However, the life she lived now was far better than the depressed and bleak way she had lived before. 

Entering the ministry through the new system in the boarded up tea house across the street from the old public bathroom (that was now just a bathroom), Maya ignored the hushed whispering that always accompanied her when in the magical world, and simply continued walking to the elevators. Flowing with the crush of people, she made it to the DOM in record time due to the early hour. Most DOM employees shared the regular hours with the rest of the Ministry, but when research was being conducted on an active project, normal hours were ignored. The ritual being performed was one that both Harry and Maya were rather unsure about. Although both magicals had been fast-tracked into their positions due to their experience and intelligence, they were still considered juniors to the senior they shared leadership with. Being in charge of the team that conducted experiments on the Veil of Death was considered dangerous even amongst the DOM, but the ritual that Reginald Sampson was planning was far more dangerous. Both Harry and Maya had been overruled in their objections to the nature of this experiment, the Head of the Department had been away in Africa for months, and his second-in-command was in Unspeakable Sampson's pocket for some strange reason.

When Maya finally reached the Death Chamber, everyone else on the team was already there, albeit still in preparation mode. Maya sipped at her mint tea as she walked down to the second row of the amphitheatre surrounding the Veil, where Harry was currently arguing with Sampson. He was waving a page of calculations in their "senior's" face, and it looked as though Sampson was actually going to pop a blood vessel when both men noticed her arrival.

Sampson sneered when he saw Maya standing there with her muggle to-go mug and greeted her condescendingly, "Lovely of you to finally show up _Unspeakable _Stricton."

Merely raising her eyebrow in reply, (it wasn't like she was late) Sampson narrowed his eyes at her before huffing, nodding to Harry (or Unspeakable Potter) in ascent of whatever it was that they had been arguing about, and snatched the parchment out of Harry's hand. The two Unspeakable's watched as Sampson stalked over to the assistants painting the diagrams on the floor and shoving it at one of them before going to sulk on the other side of the room like a five year old.

Maya came up next to Harry and asked, "Ginny and the kids?"

Harry needed no clarification, "They're leaving at noon. Gin said to get biscuits on our way."

Grunting in affirmation, Maya stretched and sighed, "Lets go make sure Sampson doesn't kill anyone."

Four hours of careful preparation later and they were almost ready to start the ritual. Maya knew better than anyone that the information that they had on the Veil of Death was very limited, and that most of that material had come through the Veil itself. She was one of the few whom had actually studied the manuscripts that were made of vellum, inscribed with a language no one on earth knew, not even the few vampires that had been willing to help knew the mysterious script. Cryptographers from long ago had discovered it as a language, and after the first translation, no one bothered to try again. Maya wasn't normal by anyone's standards and knew the things by heart even if she had no idea what the language sounded like. Quite a bit of the translations and cryptographers notes were speculation, and the only reason that they got as far as they did was the pictures in one of the books. Which meant that the books weren't actually all that useful, and most of the other information came from scans and such performed on the towering arch. Which was why Maya didn't think that anyone could blame her for being upset about the whole affair with Sampson. The idiot had prepared not only the ritual they were performing using the translated texts, but also the diagrams they were using to draw the pentagrams and designs.

Which meant that Harry had spent months using arithmancy, and Maya runes, to try and make it compatible and safe with their version of magic. They knew nothing about what the Veil truly lead to, what it did, whom had made it, or what it had originally been meant for. Harry and herself both thought that Sampson was insane for trying to go through with this, and what Harry had heard about Sampson a few months ago made her even more unsure. Apparently, Sampson hadn't actually been doing research for the past five years, he had been passing off other peoples work as his own whilst covering up his lack of study. There wasn't any evidence, however, and the Head of the DOM, Anthony Larkanston, had been keeping a close eye on their fellow Unspeakable.

Ginny had asked recently why the two of them didn't quit in protest in order to bring attention to what was happening. After all, it wasn't as though they wouldn't be hired back after Larkanston got the whole story. That had lead to a very awkward confession from the two rather sheepish friends. Ancient magic hadn't been their only obsession, and it was that obsession that had brought Maya back to the place that held so many painful memories. The Veil of Death was an object that seemed to beckon both Unspeakable's in a way that was actually rather concerning. For Harry, it was a sort of twisted hope that Sirius may not have died after all. For Maya, it was a connection to the dead that wasn't bound up in a stone that Harry had dropped in the Forbbiden Forest. Their desire to know, to understand, outweighed their caution of Sampson's experiment. After all, the books were probably connected to the operation and purpose of the archway. Maya's friend hadn't exactly been impressed with that, but she knew better than to get between either witch or wizard and their obsessions. So, instead she had shaken her head and called them dunderheads, before calling the children in to dinner.

Looking over at Harry, Maya stood from the diagram she had finished and sighed, stretching out her back from being crouched for so long. 

She glanced over at her friend when he asked her, "Do you think George would want to come on the trip?"

Tilting her head to the side, Maya considered that. George had been in a funk ever since Fred was killed during the battle, he had left to live in Shell Cottage with Bill and Fleur. While Harry and Maya were away getting their Masteries, he had supported Harry's life choices, and had done so throughout the whole time, especially as he thought that the whole adoption thing was a great prank. However, he hadn't had the energy or motivation to really come see his honorary brother, he just didn't have it in him to be present. After Maya had gotten her job alongside Harry, she had finally met the famous prankster and found that they had a strange sort of synchrony in their silence. They weren't exactly besties, but they had both appreciated the others wish for peaceful moments with nothing but work, study, or simple relaxation. She meant no offense to Harry or Ginny, but both of them had picked up the trait of noise from their family, and it could be a bit much for the introvert in the witch.

As Maya went to reply that she thought George might appreciate a weekend away from the joke shop, there was sudden yelp and shout. The loud noise had every single head turning to the disturbance and Maya noticed that Sampson and an Unspeakable named Lawrence were close to the northern point of the pentagram discussing pronunciation. Then she saw the source of the shout, a woman whom had been carving runes into obsidian stones had been chiseling something whilst standing above a point in the circle and had cut herself. The stone was now wet with blood, and they all watched in horrified silence as the black etchings of the various diagrams began to light up in a blue glow the moment the blood touched the design.

Having just finished their section, Harry and Maya were the ones closest to the Veil at that moment. After a few seconds of the blue glow completing, they heard the whispers that always came from the wispy arch come to a sudden unbearable level of volume. Clapping her hands over her ears, Maya couldn't help the shout that came out of her mouth when she felt some unseen force shove at her from the side. Another shout sounded at the same time from Harry and she realized with utter terror that both of them were basically flying towards the Veil of Death, being pulled in by magic from the ritual. Before she could second guess herself, the witch reached out, grabbed Harry's trademark Unspeakable robes, and pulled with all of her strength. Maya used their momentum to yank her friend and slingshot him to the side, praying to Mother Magic that it was enough to get him out of the grip of the ritual. 

Then, everything went black.

* * *

The utter chaos that accompanied the incident in the Death Chamber was impressive, considering the nature of the Unspeakables, but when Harry was involved, things were never strictly normal. However, that didn't mean that the kerfuffle reached the rest of the Ministry. Naturally, news of what had actually happened never reached the public either. Instead, an out of the way article announcing the death of one Maya Stricton due to a work related accident, quietly made its debut and was quickly forgotten. No family was left, no close friend's outside of the few that she kept in contact with were there to mourn, so there weren't many to make any sort of fuss over the quietly kind and sweet young woman.

Unspeakable Sampson was investigated, tried, and found guilty of blackmail, abuse of power, and negligent homicide. The man was stripped of his title of Unspeakable, his wealth, and his life as he was sentenced to Azkaban for life.

Harry and Ginny had packed Maya's things and left them in the basement of their home in Wales, unable to bring themselves to do anything with their friends possessions other than store them away for now. Severus, their adopted son was strangely quiet after they broke the news, little Albus constantly questioned why Aunty Maya didn't come around anymore, Lily only crying "Aun'! Aun'!" in the way that only the truly young can call for what they want.

George came by far more often than normal, sitting with Severus in the sun room and reading or studying with the young boy.

They held a funeral, and most of the attendees were old school friends and teachers, with a smattering of the press because of Harry's appearance. The pictures containing their friend found themselves displayed more prominently than before, individual pictures suddenly missing from a few places and finding their way into the children's rooms.

These were the only markers of the existence of a person that was sorely missed, along with a gravestone placed in the graveyard of Godric's hollow, next to markers for Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Lily Potter, and James Potter. The last marker was in a room that was now collapsed and inaccessible, containing an utterly destroyed arch, buried under the rubble of the room that was once known as the Death Chamber in the Department of Mysteries.


	2. Insomnia

There was no sense of time in the black. No sense of direction, or even self. There was no room to feel anger, fear, frustration, only a strange feeling of floating in a velvet sea. 

* * *

Sound... there was some sort of sound. Almost like... water flowing over stone? Like a small stream of water. 

Feeling. Touch. Laying on something cold and hard. Warmth from... something. The sun?

Smell. Plants... a garden? Woods? Somewhere inside...

Sight. I have eyes... right? Yes. Burning, my eyes burn as I open them. Bright, the light is too bright. Where did the darkness go?

Footsteps. I can hear someone walking, they are getting closer.

"Well, this is unexpected," the voice was low, gravelly, yet pleasant and soothing. Also, very close to me.

Eyes are squeezed shut against the light, afraid of the burning to my retinas. 

A questioning hum, and then a chuckle, which sends shivers down my spine. Then, the warmth is slightly muted, "Open your eyes little one."

Cautiously, I open my eyes and sigh in relief, and spot the source of the voice. He is tall, his skin dark, eyes black, and impossibly tall. I am gaping, I know that, but I cannot seem to stop myself

Another chuckle, and my mouth snaps shut, a blush burning my cheeks.

"What has my husband in such a mirthful state, hm, Námo?" a soft feminine voice reaches us, and the man turns to the right as I do, only to find an impossibly beautiful woman floating towards us... I double check, oh, she's walking. The woman is just as tall as the man, minus a few inches, and her hair is a golden blonde that reaches her waist. She is dressed like the man, in some sort of strange robes in white, instead of the man's somber black. Her eyes remind me of the color of pale birch bark.

"Vairë," the man speaks with a fondness that makes my chest ache slightly. I wonder why for a moment before both sets of eyes focus on me, they seem to be waiting for some sort of response, maybe an explanation.

My mouth opens, but sound fails to come, I cough into my hand, noticing that I am wearing my dark blue unspeakable robes, which are badly singed. I open my mouth again and without permission, I say, "I fell."

Blinking in confusion, the pair share a look and the woman, Vairë, points over my head to something behind me, and asks in a breathy tone, "Through there?"

I look behind instinctively and feel fear as I see the Veil of Death, but far more complete. Scrambling to my feet, I let out a squeak as I trip over my own, weirdly bare, feet and fall over on my butt. The archway almost looks like a square with an entrance carved out in beautifully detailed swirls and reliefs depicting... stars?

The man-Námo, I remind myself, speaks, his tone solemn, "If you fell through, then what is you purpose for contacting the Valar?"

Looking back at the couple, now to my left, my mouth suddenly starts spilling everything, "I didn't contact you, I got caught in a ritual in the Death Chamber..." before I really compute the words coming out of my mouth, I've told both strangers about the experiment, my involvement and objections, the texts, how the pentagram was activated, the stupidity of Sampson practicing the words at the apex of the ritual, my wrenching Harry out of the way-I gasp, looking around in panic, "Where's Harry?! Is he okay!? Did he fall through!?"

The two look startled, before the woman comes forward and takes my shoulders in a calming motion, and I can't help but flinch involuntarily. I've always been a tactile person, loving hugs and getting comfort through touch, but there had been an incident with a snatcher, and he had grabbed me by the shoulders to hold me down...

I am then distracted from Vairë's concern by Námo's reply, "I found no one here but you. Based on your description, only you fell to this place."

Taking a deep breath, I let it out with a slightly hysterical giggle, and say, "Oh, then it worked," before the darkness greets me once again.

* * *

I have absolutely no idea how long I have been among the Valar, but I do know that my fate is being decided at the moment. I had met quite a few, and they had explained our grievous error. Closing my eyes, I sat in the vast garden of Manwë's halls, and recalled the explanation I had been given by Manwë.

_The archway that your people studied is part of a system created by Death. Your 'Earth' and our 'Arda', were connected by this doorway through their realm, although why they did it in the first place is unclear. Thus, your people were able to use this doorway to punish their evil, and to contact us. It is apparent that you have changed much since the original creation if there are none who now understand the texts which explain this._

The thought that I had was mainly just surprise that the function of the Death Chamber was even part way correct.

_When your... human called Sampson, chose the ritual that he did, and the way that you describe it... the resultant whiplash of power would have destroyed the archway in your plane of existence. The fact that you and your friend were adjusting the way that you would interact with the ritual was an intelligent approach, but when you activated the diagram before it was finished... there is no chance that the arch survived. I am sorry for your loss, but you cannot make your way back, and we do not have the power to send you._

Even though Námo was basically the grim reaper here, he was surprisingly gentle and understanding. He had explained a lot of the world to me while his wife spoke to Manwë those first days, and he periodically visited to help me learn more about Arda. Irmo was one of the other Vala that came to see me the most often, he had an annoying habit of teasing me about dreams and desires, which he was actual Lord of here, but he also helped me learn the languages and texts of Arda through my dreams. I had a feeling that the both of them were helping to distract me, as they both called me 'Little Scholar', and knew that my insatiable curiosity was one of the ways to draw my attention away from my grief.

I heard a throat clear off to my left and looked up from between my flower bushes to see Aulë standing in an archway of the main hall. He beckoned me over, and I saw his wife, Yavanna, smiling encouragingly from a little farther down when she saw my hesitance. This was the first time I was being summoned without explanation, and I had a feeling that my fate was decided. 

As we came into the large room where Manwë had first questioned me, I saw no one except Námo, Vairë, and Manwë. With the two whom were leading me, it was only the six of us in the large meeting hall. The King of the Valar looked at me with sadness and resolution in his eyes, and I couldn't help but swallow against my suddenly dry throat.

In a booming voice that made me think of the vastness of the sky whenever he spoke, Manwë declared, "I, and my fellow Valar, have come to a decision little one."

He paused for a moment, and I nodded, once again thinking how amazing it was that Manwë, despite his power and position, was not arrogant. Then he continued, "You have two choices, little one," my breath hitched at that and I tensed, waiting for the blow, "You can pass on, into the realm of death and move on, or, you can be reborn into our world, and live out your life on Arda, until the end of your days."


	3. Downward

The first ten years of my life after being reborn were practically blissful. I had parents who loved me, a group of close knit friends, and so much fun and adventure filling each day. My father was an elf whom founded a group of traveling Sindarin merchants, moving from the East to the West of Middle Earth, trading. Although young, my memory and intelligence was something that my father, Eluréd, liked to boast about any chance he got. My mother, Belba, on the other hand, liked to teach me humility and grace, along with a healthy dose of her own people's customs, culture, and language. They both tried to instill the best parts of themselves into me, their only daughter. 

There were, of course, some downsides. Although I had no memory of my previous life for the first seven years, my parents definitely noticed the spark of magic that I would exhibit every once in a while. Sometimes it was simply moving an object with my mind if I wanted it enough, once it was finding myself in a tree all of a sudden after being chased by a very large and angry duck, or after a nightmare, lighting up the tent with a bright, inexplicable light. They kept the magic a secret, like they did most other things, and left it at that. Then there was the fact that I was of mixed race. My father was an elf (for the most part), and my mother was a hobbit. Because my father traveled so much, it was inevitable that they would trade with the Shire. He met my mother on one of their many trips to see the periannath (Hobbits, or Halflings). There had been some resistance with her family, especially considering her standing in the community, but in the end, they were each other's One, a fated pair. No one would argue or keep apart a fated pair unless they were exceedingly cruel. Due to this mixing, I looked like a human with pointy ears, instead of the tall height of the elves, with normal looking feet instead of the hairy comfort of the Hobbits. Lastly, there was that secrecy that was previously mentioned. My father was an elf of some renown, but he wanted to disappear, to become invisible and simply live life. So he called himself Mablost, and let the other elves handle most of the face-to-face trading. 

When I turned ten, our caravan was ambushed by orcs, and my parents, along with the majority of the adults, died. There were only two adults to care for the five remaining children. They, knowing that I was unlikely to be accepted by the hobbits due to my mixed nature, and that my parents were adamant that I not be known by any other elves, decided to leave me with an old friend of my parents. Unfortunately, due to their secretive nature, Belba and Mablost failed to mention that this 'old friend' was the last person that they would want to raise me, and that he wasn't actually a friend. I had tried to explain that at the time, but the poor elves thought that I was merely distraught at leaving my friends, assumed they were doing what was best and left it at that. The man whom took care of me, Lithlad, had been a close friend of Maedhros, one of the kinslayers. The things that he had done and seen caused him to lead the life of a hermit, in-spite of the social nature of elves, and he wasn't completely right in the head. He taught me a great many things, but he wasn't gentle or nice about it. My memories of my old life both helped and made things worse. I would remember Harry telling me about the way his relatives had treated him in the dead of night when my guardian finally fell asleep, and I would think that their brand of 'care' would have been nice compared to his. 

At fourteen, I had tried to run away from the crazy elf several times, but each time, I had been tracked down and dragged back to that horrible shack in rotting woods. Then, one morning, Lithlad dragged me out of bed and said in a shaky and not at all comforting voice, "They're coming, girl, they're coming."

* * *

The morning had dawned cold and grey, with fog rolling across the landscape like a shroud. I had zero idea where we were, even though I had gotten fairly good at judging location after twelve months of living on the run with my insane guardian. There was a forest off to the north, and mountains to the south, but that didn't make sense to the map I had in my head, but I was also aware that the beating Lithlad had given me a week ago had given me a rather nasty concussion which left me with a few blank spots. Getting onto the donkey (whom I had privately named Primrose in English) I followed behind the dark rump of my guardians horse (which I had named Thorn because he was just as nasty as Lithlad). 

"Marilla," my name, meaning 'pearl', was spat out like a curse in Lithlad's grating voice.

"Yes, Lithlad?" I asked, trying very hard to keep the dislike out of my voice, every jostle from Primrose made the various injuries from the ellon's tender care throb and ache.

"When we get to the next town, you are to go in and beg like the dirty little orphan you are," he ordered, just like he did before any populated area we came upon. Gritting my teeth, I replied with the required, "Yes, sir," and let my donkey plod along. 

Suddenly, Primrose started to jolt, making braying noises of distress and halting every few steps, as though she were getting close to a pit of lava. The donkey had been acting strange since we had risen hours ago, but she was mostly just a little skittish, this was turning into a full on freak-out. I had no idea what was setting her off, but I could see from my guardians eyes when he turned on his seat to glare at me over his shoulder that the delay was going to be blamed on be. My lower lip throbbed in remembrance of when his last reprimand left me with a split lip. When Lithlad tugged sharply on Thorn's reigns to get the beast to turn, the horse reared back suddenly, and dumped the elf onto the ground like a sack of potatoes. Fear slithered down my spine as I tried to calm Primrose to listen to the area surrounding, but she wouldn't be calmed. Then, like a war cry, I heard it. The sound of something monstrous snarling off to the left, obscured by the fog into a hulking shape. 

Lithlad screamed as some sort of wolf-looking creature that came straight out of nightmares leaped out of the grey fog and attacked the ellon with a violence I only remembered seeing once. Bile rose in my throat as a flash of memory crossed my mind. Reaching for my bow and arrows I evacuated my seat from the terrified Primrose and backed away. I had no idea if this would work, but I knew that the creature would follow if I ran. 

The warg was haggard looking and obviously injured, as I could see the bloody gash on it's side. I could hear no other animals as I hid behind a cluster of boulder's whilst my, now former, guardian's screams lowered to a gurgle. Terror ripped through me as I heard Primrose galloping away, leaving me truly alone for the first time in this life. I knew that I could use magic with the wand I had created a few years ago, but I had no idea how effective magic was against wargs, it wasn't as though I regularly got to practice on them.

I inhaled sharply and tried to hold onto the meager contents of my stomach when I heard a distinctive sort of _crunch _and _rip_ come from the area where I last saw Lithlad. Breathing shallowly through my mouth, I slowly turned and looked at the shapes through the grey. Spotting the hulking mass, I notched an arrow and watched the movements of the warg eating, ruthlessly forcing myself not to think about what the creature was feasting on. I aimed for the side of the thing's head, desperately trying to remember where the ear was. Pressing my lips together, I ignored the throb coming from my abused lip and waited for the warg to rip another strip of meat to the side, and let my arrow fly. The scream that accompanied the arrow hitting its mark was ear-splitting. Then, an answering chorus of calls came and seemed to echo in my skull. Without really thinking, I started to dash towards the forest, hoping for cover and a way to lose any pursuers.

Wargs meant orcs, and orcs meant pain, suffering, and death.

I couldn't remember the last time I ran like this, but I knew that there was no way I would keep it up for long. The further I ran, the more I felt my injuries and lack of food or water. When I could no longer run, I walked, only stopping for short breaks. When it was too dark to see I laid there with my bow, quiver, and dagger like a security blanket. I had no way of keeping track of time among the trees of this forest with the exception of night and day, and the air seemed heavy and sinister. Some of the anxiety was definitely coming from the massive webs I was seeing in the trees, though. There was a niggling sensation at the back of my mind as I tried to remember something that I had heard about a forest like this one, but the thought was being hidden behind hunger and exhaustion.

Sighing heavily, I re-braided my hair and sat on a root to take a break before trying to find my way out of this horrible forest.

Nightfall came quickly that day, and I had my first run-in with an inhabitant of the forest. I could tell that the fruit lining my way through the woods wouldn't be edible, so I had eaten whatever rations I had in my expandable pouch, before I tried to settle enough for a light sleep. I had desperately wanted to light a fire, but I didn't want to risk attracting anything with the light, and there was no way that I had enough energy for a ward right now. I had been starting to drift off when I heard a rustle from somewhere behind me and sat ram-rod straight. When the rustling didn't stop, I stood very carefully and notched by bow. Waiting in tense apprehension, I could only see the outline of the creature in the dim light of the forest as it moved right next to my tree. It took almost all of my self control not to scream when I realized that the thing was a gigantic spider.

Not moving a muscle, I saw the spider stop, and finally noticed the shiny web that it had followed to this very spot. Trying not to make a sound, I was internally screaming at myself for being such an idiot. Spiders track prey through movement in their webs since they have bad eyesight. Keeping my breathing even, I waited and prayed that the spider wouldn't notice me.

After an agonizing period of time that could have been minutes or hours, the monstrous spider left, although I remained stock still for a while after. Only when my muscles screamed for movement did I leave my statue-like position and leave the area. Trying to navigate a forest in the dead of night was hard, trying to navigate _this_ forest in the dead of night was impossible. I was terrified that I would stumble onto another web and alert the massive spiders that there was tasty, idiotic prey nearby. After a few moments of stumbling around, I decided to stay where I was until I had some light to navigate by. After an indeterminate amount of time, where I kept dosing off only to snap awake in terror, the sun had finally risen enough that I could start moving again. The number of times I stumbled was ridiculous, so when I almost fell flat on my face for the third time, I decided to stop and rest.

Waking up and seeing that it was still daytime was a relief, and it meant that I could keep going. However, when I had gone some ways through the trees, I heard what sounded like a bunch of rustling coming from the left. This time, it sounded like a lot more that just one spider. I notched an arrow and dashed around a tree to hide from the incoming horde of monsters. My heart pounding in my chest, I waited for them to come to me and attack. As the rustling got closer and closer, I failed to hear the murmuring of voices over the rushing noise in my ears. When the sound of many feet coming towards me was practically on top of my location, I jumped out from behind the tree, bow drawn.

Everyone in the area froze, just staring at one another.

My mind couldn't process what my eyes were seeing for a moment, before I inhaled sharply and skidded back a step, promptly tripping over a root and falling backwards with a yelp. My arrow went flying and embedded itself into a nearby tree, and I landed with an 'ooph' onto the forest floor.

For a moment I just lay there, trying to figure out why I had just run into a group of very run-down looking Dwarves, before I realized what a vulnerable position I was in. Scrambling to my feet, I tripped over my skirt a few times before I managed to stand up and unsheathe my dagger. The Dwarves were all staring at me with different levels of incredulity, from my pointed ears to my bedraggled feet, back up to my terrified expression.

There was a moment of utter silence before a bald dwarf, covered in tattoos, bellowed, "What in the name of Mahal is going one here?"


	4. Chapter 4

**Bold words **mean that the language of Green Tongue is being spoken

Bilbo couldn't help the feeling of growing despair as the company made their way through the sickly, seemingly endless, trees. He had felt the sickness of Mirkwood before they had even entered and couldn't help but agree with the change from it's previous name, Greenwood.

He understood with a grudging sort of helplessness that this was the only way to reach the Lonely Mountain on time. Unfortunately it was not just the sickness of the woods, the harsh rashioning of food and water, or the lack of wind and sunlightlight that was making this trek difficult. The poor hobbit had to admit that those sources of misery would most likely have been about a hundred times easier if his companions weren't a bunch of Dwarves. Don't get him wrong, after everything that they had been through thus far, he considered the lot of them friends, and far be it for him to stick them with a label. However, the stubborness of the Dwarven race was making itself known in a very trying way. Bilbo couldn't help but thank Yavanna that she had spared him that particular amount of hard-headedness. It seemed as though every five minutes he was hearing someone insist that they were going the wrong way, but Thorin was adamant that he knew exactly where they were going. Then, a little while ago he had heard Dwalin grumbling under his breath about his King's reputation for having a horrible sense of direction.

As the mild-mannered hobbit caught the frustrated scowl on Thorin's face, a blush worked its way onto Bilbo's tired face. The infuriating heir to the throne had been getting under his skin from the moment Oakenshield had entered Bag-End. Now, though, the regal dwarf had been getting under his skin in a much different way that made Bilbo want to scream, hide, or burst into flames. Acknowledging attractiveness was one thing, but shivering from merely brushing againtst the other was another thing entirely. Thorin's strange protectiveness ever since the clash with Azog wasn't helping either. The entire dynamic between them had changed, but he also understood that it had been changing even before then. One minute the Dwarven royal would scowl at him and the next he would stay close by as Bilbo slept. Thorin would ignore him whilst they hiked, but would give him his food with his own hands at meals. Sighing in the privacy of his own mind, Bilbo wished for the thousandth time that he had the courage to speak to the prickly Dwarf about it.

Bilbo saw Ori trip over a rather inconspicuous root next to him and quickly reached out to stop the poor scribe from tumbling face-first onto the rotten forest floor.

Ori thanked him profusely, hardly stuttering; he obviously held the same disgust for this diseased place, and Bilbo simply continued on. With a jerking sort of feeling in his intestines, Bilbo caught a fierce scowl on Thorins face before the dwarf turned his head sharply upon noticing his watcher.

Releasing a breath that he hadn't realized he was holding, Bilbo found himself hoping with a ridiculous sort of light-headedness that he wasn't glaring at a hobbit for being so friendly with a dwarf, but...

Quite suddenly, a thumping was heard from ahead, and the entire party stopped when a young girl jumped out from behind a tree along their route, bow drawn. The main reason, Bilbo believed, that none of them were moving, was because of how obviously young the girl was, as well as the dazed fear on her face.

For a moment the girl looked as shocked as they were. Just as suddenly as she had appeared, however, she seemed to register the people in front of her. The registering of their company startled her considerably as she skidded back a step only to trip over a root behind her with a yelp. The girls arrow embedded itself into a tree and then her body seemed to lay still for a moment before jerking into movement, she was scrambling and tripping over herself to get back up.

Bilbo honestly couldn't help his bewilderment and incredulity as he saw the stranger take out a dagger with wide amethyst eyes and even more fear on her tired face.

Then he finally saw them. The girls ears were pointed. However, she was far too short for an elf, and her features were far rounder and softer than any elf he had seen before. Actually, this was all wrong, and her appearance was only one element.

Before anyone could really do anything, Dwalin interrupted the strange silence with a shouted, "What in the name of Mahal is going on here!?"

This seemed to startle the party out of their stupifaction and this time it was Thorin who spoke. Looking at the stranger with a glower that had both Bilbo, and the strange girl wincing, he demanded, "Who are you to be blocking our path, _elf_?"

Flinching at the way he practically spat the word, the girl started to stutter and ramble a reply, "I-I'm no one... I-I wasn't trying to do a-anything to you - I was j-just..." she paused, panting slightly with a look of frustration on her face. "_You were supposed to be the creepy spiders!_" the girl finally yelled, startling them with her vehemence.

Then she stopped. From the look on her face, the sudden outburst had startled her as much as it startled them. Instead of continuing, however, the girl dropped the dagger like it was poisonus and buried her fingers in her long, dark, and greasy-looking hair. She was muttering under her breath as she started to pace back and forth. This continued for a few minutes and Bilbo was listening intently, feeling like he was listening to something he knew, but he couldn't hear her properly.

Thorin opened his mouth to no doubt demand some more answers, but this time, Bilbo stepped forward and took a chance. **"Are you alright, young one?"**

At the sound of the Green Tongue, the true language of the Hobbits, the young girls head snapped up and her face lit up with a smile, **"Ah, a hobbit, all the way out here!? Thank goodness!"**


	5. Chapter 5

As soon as the strange hobbit, looking at me with curious eyes spoke in the soothing sound of the Green Tongue, I developed a rather sudden case of verbal diarrhea. Words spilled out of my mouth in a jumble of relief and fear, **"****Oh please tell me you know how to get out of this awful forest-I just stumbled on this massive spider-they should not be able to grow that big-. No wait, I should tell you about the attack- or, no I should introduce myself- actually, do you know where the nearest settlement is? Why are you travelling with dwarves?-"**

The hobbit held up one of his hands and slowly approached, to the obvious disapproval of his companions. The movement cut off the bumbling, half finished sentences, and the hobbit asked, **"May I know your name, and how you came to be in this forest, young one?"**

Blood pooled in my cheeks and I couldn't help a small, rather sheepish smile at his questions. When I found myself hesitating, the kind hobbit smiled and came slightly closer. With a huff of shaky air my legs seemed to collapsed under me and I sat on the rotten ground with a thud. Breathing in again I replied, much softer than before, **"I am Marilla, daughter of Belba and Mablost. How I came to be here, though... my guardian and I were attacked on the road by a rogue warg-"** I noticed the wide, worried eyes that the hobbit shot me **"-and I managed to injure it enough to run. Lithlad... was not so lucky..."**

A shudder raced up my spine at the memory and I inhaled sharply as the sound of flesh tearing seemed to echo in my ear. And then, _th__e tall, strong walls of Hogwarts surrounded me. Spells were flying, rubble and dust obscured my vision. A noise that sounded like wet fabric being ripped grabbed my attention. Suddenly, a scream rent the air, I ran without thinking and stumbled to a halt as I skidded around the corner. A Ravenclaw was on the ground, scrabbling to get away from a blood smeared Fenrir Greyback. His eyes were an eerie yellow, his face looked like it was transitioning into wolf form, and his teeth were sharp, dripping with blood. As though in slow motion, my eyes followed the trail of blood to the Ravenclaw's arm, were the robe was ripped and blood poured from a red mess that looked like raw hamburger. Stomach revolting, my head snapped up as an inhuman snarl caught my attention. Greyback was grinning at the student, and he lunged forward. In a flash my wand was raised, and the spell ran through my mind as my hand automatically completed the thought. The spell hit moments before the werewolf touched the young boy-. _Small, warm hands wrapped around mine, and I started, looking up to see the concerned brown eyes of the hobbit. He was speaking to me and I realized that I had been spiraling into a panic attack. As soon as the realization hit, my lungs began to function properly, and I gulped in air as the hobbit's words finally reached me, **"There, there. It will be alright Marilla. Just breath and focus on my voice young one. I have you. You are with me. There is no enemy here-"**

The hobbits litany ended when I finally squeezed his hands back and regained a somewhat steady breathing rhythm. Attempting to get my mind away from the panic inducing memory, and ignoring the dwarves that had moved closer during my flash back, I asked the hobbit, **"What is your name, Master Hobbit?"**

The unsure smile that crossed his face had me frowning in worry, but before I could comment, the hobbit replied, **"My name is Bilbo, son of Bungo and Belladonna Baggins. I do believe that you are my cousin, Marilla."**

* * *

Based on the dropped jaw and the widening eyes, Bilbo had to assume that the young girl, Marilla, was very shocked by this information. When she spoke again, Bilbo had to lean closer to hear the whispered words, **"Your aunt was Belba Baggins?"**

Nodding with what he hoped was an encouraging smile, Bilbo was certainly surprised when Marilla suddenly latched onto him in a tight hug, crying softly as she clutched his rather dirty jacket. Holding up a hand to his fellows, whom had been startled into action at the sudden way that his young cousin had moved, he patted the brown hair of the young one in front of him and tried to process what was happening. When she had introduced herself, he had experienced a jolt at the familiar names of his aunt and the elf that the family had reluctantly allowed to wed her. The scandal had been covered up by a claim of travelling to visit family, but Bilbo had remembered his parents discussing it before they had passed away. His father had been quite huffily indignant, as aunt Belba had been promised to a young Hobbit by the name of Rudigar Bolger. Bilbo's mother had been exasperatedly scolding him for being anything but happy for his aunt, because she had found her One. Shaking off the feeling of bewildered happiness and concern, Bilbo took some time to coax his cousin to loosen her surprisingly strong grip.

*** small time skip ***

After Bilbo had explained everything to the rest of the party, he made introductions and explained Marilla's heritage, he made it crystal clear that he was not in any way, shape, or form, about to abandon his orphaned cousin. The company had set off again to try and find the path that they had wandered from. Marilla was looking tired and hunched in on herself as they walked, looking mostly at the ground or at Bilbo. He had a feeling that his cousin was used to people judging her based on her mixed race. While Bilbo was one of the first to admit that the union of her parents was an unusual mix, he had never particularly contemplated what would happen in the case of such a union producing offspring. Looking at some of the faces of his companions, the normally quiet spoken and hesitant hobbit felt a bolt of steel bolster his spine. He wasn't about to allow anyone on this voyage treat his cousin with anything but respect. He knew not to expect miracles, but he would not allow prejudice to harm his already traumatized cousin any more than he could help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I changed Marilla's mothers name because I looked at the family tree and realized that Pansy was a great aunt of Bilbo's. I changed the name in chapter 3 as well, but this is just an update for anyone confused by the name change


End file.
